


you will be mine (resolution)

by zayneyelashes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Stiles Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zayneyelashes/pseuds/zayneyelashes
Summary: "He wakes up at the Hale house.He doesn't need much time to realize it. It's the same ceiling that he'd stare at when there was too much to think and feel and do. It's the same couch where he kissed Derek again, only that time was different. That time Derek actually kissed him back; his hands held onto his neck and hair like there was a chance Stiles might disappear.He wouldn't. He didn't."(or the one where Derek comes back)





	you will be mine (resolution)

**Author's Note:**

> sooo, i hope you enjoy!

"Your thoughts are way too loud" she mumbled.

"Sorry"

Derek could feel a small smile forming on her lips against his cheek.

"Do you need space?"

He breathed out.

"No"

"Good. I'm comfortable here"

He breathed in.

Good. He can be good. They can be good.

* * *

 "Fuck, fuck, fuck"  


Stiles isn't sure from whose mouth that was coming from. After a rapid glance at Liam, who had been beaten down and had mountain ash thrown at him, he realizes that he probably isn't in the best shape to make any sounds except for groans and noises that were probably him trying to voice some important information. But since it sounds like baby Tarzan trying to convey his first words, Stiles could only hope Liam was complimenting him on his courage on saving his ass and carrying him to Derek's house — _he left it here for us,_ Scott had told him the same night Derek left, _so we can use it for... I don't know, pack._  


"C'mon, man" Stiles fucking hated that part of the woods. The trees and fog covered too much for him to be able to know where exactly he was going. Aside from that, sweat was dripping on his eyes and he could feel the dizziness starting to come "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, use your werewolf superpowers"

He has no idea where Malia and Scott are, but Deaton was supposed to be on his way. He just needs to get to Derek's.

And then Liam had to start coughing blood. Of course.  


"Jesus..." 

He moans.

"I'm dying"

"Would you shut up. You're sixteen, you're not even allowed to die yet."

He helps Liam sit on the ground and knees in front of him. 

"We're close" he can't see much of his face, but he can tell his expression is of disbelief. He holds onto a thin tree trunk and breathes in. His legs are burning and his pretty sure his lungs are giving up on him.

"You don't know that" Liam looks up "You look like shit"

"You're not even looking in the right dire-

A familair howl breaks into the night.

Stiles laughs humourlessly.

How fucking convenient.

 

* * *

 

"You could go back" she told him matter of factly, months later.

"I know" the red neon lights from the motel sign shine through the windows. Her eyes don't turn softer under the light; they become darker, warmer, new.

When she realized he wouldn't say anything else, Braeden kissed him and Derek didn't need to think about much more.

It's good, what they have. They don't talk about the past — he doesn't want to be informed of how much she already knows —, nor do they stay in the same town for long. They spend nights in rented rooms and days somewhere on the streets. There was no need to worry about ~~who~~ what he wants or craves. There was no need to dig the past.

 _We're good,_  he reminds himself as she lays down on the bed and pushes him with her.  _We're good_.

 

* * *

The sounds of howl and gunshots fire away across the night.

Stiles can't open his eyes, can't even bring himself to remember what happened, but he can feel blood escaping from his thigh, reaching his knee and touching the soil. He wants to look for some piece of cloth for him to wrap around the bleeding, but his hands stay still over the ground and the only thing he can feel are the small rocks under his fingers.

Something falls on his side and there's a scream. Is it Lydia? He's pretty sure his heart is beating faster than it's recommended. He tries to scream — won't someone fucking notice she's in danger? It's hypersensitivity, isn't? How they call it? Undesirable reactions caused by extreme anxiety? Being extra aware of your surroundings?

He presses each of his fingers against the ground.

_One, two, three..._

_One, two, three..._

_Four, six..._

He breathes in.

He's stuck.

* * *

 

She figured it out days later — or realized it was time to let him know she figured it out, he's not sure.

"You should go back"

He doesn't look at her.

"Where?"

"Beacon Hills"

"There's nothing there anymore"

"Der" there's a small smile on her lips; he's not sure if it's sad or amused "It's okay" she kisses the edge of his lips "It's okay".

* * *

 

Stiles blinks. Once, twice. There are content big blue eyes staring at him.

"We're not dead" Liam says. There's movement around him, wherever it is that they're at. He means to ask how the hell they got away, and if he was back and if it was all some cosmical joke with no punchline.

Instead, he mumbles:

"Cool" and manages to pass out.

 

* * *

 

They had hugged and he didn't want to let go. She was certainty with all her unpredictability; she's being woken up to a warm presence and big eyes in the middle of the night, somewhere in between cities he's never heard the name of. She could be enough. She should be enough.

"See you, Hale" she said and he could almost hear bit of hope in her voice.

"See you"

He didn't look back.

 

* * *

 

_The thing is-_

The thing is, whatever it was that they had, it was never truly established. They'd kiss, wether it was in the woods, or at Derek's house, or at Stiles' room — when there wasn't much noise besides the TV static and their own breathes. They wouldn't touch much; most of the time, all Derek seemed to want were hesitating hands or gripping fingers. They were _something_ , even when Stiles was on the verge of another panick attack, even when it seemed like the town was crumbling down, even when Allison died.

They were-

Stiles was never really sure what they were.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up at the Hale house.

He doesn't need much time to realize it. It's the same ceiling that he'd stare at when there was too much to think and feel and do. It's the same couch where he kissed Derek again, only that time was different. That time Derek actually kissed him back; his hands held onto his neck and hair like there was a chance Stiles might disappear.

He wouldn't. He didn't.

He doesn't need much time to notice Derek's silhouette, either.

"They're outside" his voice is rough, like he has spent some quality time howling.

He swallows whatever's on his mouth and nods.

"Your dad's at the station" he continues "Scott and Lydia are with Deaton. Malia's with-

"Right"

He presses his hands on both sides of the couch to be able to sit. The room spins for a second and he's not sure if Derek's moving closer or if it's in his head. He chooses to knuckles his eyes instead off trying to figure it out.

"Are they dead? The other guys?"

"No, but they won't be a problem."

He waits for a complementation — "anymore", "for a while", but Derek, ever the talker, stays there with his arms crossed.

"Right" he rests his elbows on his knees and pretends he's facing his feet so he won't have to face the light from the windows. "Right. So..." he breathes out "Long time no see. Since we haven't seen each other in, like, six or eight months? I wondered if you had been eaten by a mountain lion, but there aren't any... No, there are no wolves in California, but there are definitely mountain lions. I'm not sure if you were in California, though" he glances at him "Were you?"

"No. We didn't really stay in one place for long"

He's pretty sure the pill turned into a tumor.

"How's Brae?"

Derek furrows his eyebrows; although they still hold power, they seem amused.

"What? You weren't the only one close to her."

He rolls his eyes and moves closer.

"She's fine. Somewhere around North" he answers like there's no need to miss her, like they're going to meet again soon.

"How long are you sticking around for?"

Derek smiles and that does it.

"Already planning on getting rid of me?"

"Yeah, was thinking 'bout hiding your body in a ditch somewhere."

"The pack would find it suspectful"

"I was planning on playing the widow part, you know? Crying my eyes out because my one true love's gone"

"You were never good at being sad for long"

_Watch me._

"Yeah" he smiles tightly. The pressure on his head is less heavy. "Why haven't you shut me up yet?"

He shrugs. He doesn't seem real.

"It's nice hearing you talk"

"It's the drugs, man"

"You're not on drugs" Derek sits on the edge of the couch. One part of him screams "thank God", while the other would like very much to push him off and run away in horror.

"Then what am I on? Am I dreaming?"

Derek shows both of his hands, five fingers each.

Stiles only realizes he had glanced unconsciously at his own hands when Derek leans in. His fingers brush around both of Stiles' pulses and then lets his hands rest on the palms of his own.

"One, two, three, four, five..."

He was wrong about the voice. It sounds the same.

"Six, seven..." Most of him sounds the same, actually.

"Eight, nine" he looks back at Stiles "ten"

"Cool" his voice is weaker "Been getting real bored of his dreams"

His lips curled upwards. He raised his eyebrows, except it wasn't in the same way from before. He's softer, fucking at ease.

"Me too"

Stiles draws back. Derek was too close. Derek was too much.

"Are they coming back soon? There's a ton of stuff that I need to figure out with them" He pushes the covers away and plants his feet on the ground — his left thigh burns whenever there's the slightlest pressure against it.

"Stiles"

"Yeah?"

Derek looks tired.

"I'm not leaving" it sounds like a plead. Like he's asking for truce.

He thinks of nice things to say — _that's_ _good_ or _it's your house, after all_ or _fuck you._ He decides nodding is the safest option.

"Hope you enjoy your stay, then"

* * *

He goes back to NYU. He studies foresinc science — and often calls Lydia for help because how the fuck can he understand Mass Spectrometry —, skypes Scott and Liam — and consequently Theo — and endures Malia's adventure on discovering emojis and memes and sending him 27 a day. He avoids Derek as much as humanly possible.  


It doesn't take too long for summer to arrive, though.

Liam spoils his surprise _welcome-back-asshole_ party Lydia threw him and they all pretend he doesn't know. Derek's there as well; he seems like he wants to come closer, but just smiles warmly at him. Stiles smiles back.

It's normal. It's good.

It's not how he had envisioned it.

He expected for big explosions and monster haunting. Instead, it's one month later, and he's at Derek's house with everyone else after a pack night — the name just kind of sticked. Theo puts his arm over Liam's shoulder and leans onto him while they leave. Malia goes to Lydia's car with Derek's bowl of popcorn and doesn't look back.

"You are all such a mess" Lydia says, stinking her face and standing up from the couch.

Scott smiles, sleepy.

"True"

"You're included"

He frowns and lazily gets up.

"I'll help with the mess" Stiles offers. He doesn't miss Lydia's smug smile before she leaves with Scott.

It's just them. The TV is still on but Stiles can't really make out the words that are being said.

It's not like they haven't been in the same room since he's arrived. When he came back, they were in the middle of rebuilding the Hale house. Crumbled it down and raised it up again so it would reseamble the feeling of belonging. It did, with its big windows and too many rooms so they could all fit.

Stiles wanted to make sense of it all so he could he tell him. But he had realized it was way easier to describe his annoyance or anger than to explain that he didn't really want to leave that night, or ever.

"Thanks" Derek says. His hair is soft and mushed. "for the help"

"No problem, man"

Derek's still looking at him.

"So" Stiles adverts his eyes. He's supposed to say something after saying "so", he's sure of it — it's how 90% of his endless rants start out. But Derek is still looking at him like he's about to speak and it makes Stiles scared and anxious and _longing._

Fuck it.

Stiles kisses him.

He kisses him like it's his first time doing it. Like he has just turned seventeen and is too afraid to die to even care about anything besides what he wants. Derek responds instantly and it feels too much like breathing again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" Derek murmurs when they break apart. Their lips still close enough that Stiles could make out Derek's words with his mouth if he wanted to. His beard scratches against Stiles' cheek and jaw and neck. His hands grip on his waist. It was the feeling of home... No, it was a feeling of _coming bac_ k home; the feeling of stepping in barefoot on the new ground, of letting your fingers run against the almost dry paints on the walls, of recognizing its scent under the lair of change.

 "Stay"

He did.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are very appreciated!


End file.
